The Triumphs of Peace, or, The Glories of Nassaw A Pindarick Poem. Occasioned by the Conclusion of the Peace between the Confederacy and France. Written at the time of His Grace the Duke of Ormond's Entrance into Dublin in Ireland, By Mr John Hopkins |
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 | The Triumphs of Peace, or, The Glories of Nassaw |  |
To the truly Honourable The Lord CUTTS.
Let some with, servile, mean Devices bow,And bend their Souls, as well as Bodies, low;
Flatter the Great, cringe deep, to gain Esteem,
And by their own Dishonour, honour them.
By Wiles like these, new Favours, poorly claim;
I pay your Lordship, but what's paid by Fame,
'Tis through your Merits, not my own, I choose
Thus to salute you by my rising Muse;
She must fly up, to pay Respect to you.
Let others spread their Patron's Feathers far,
The Toys of Peace, your Laurels spread thro' War.
Some Pride in Wreaths, which bolder Arms have made,
But your own conquering Hands have deckt your Head.
To you, my Lord, a double Crown is due,
At once the Hero, and the Poet too.
Since Nassaw's Actions still remain untold,
While Dryden lives; immortal; yet he's old.
'Tis your, we hope, will make them far ador'd,
And serve him with your Pen, as well as Sword.
Beyond his Trumpets Clangors, make them known,
With Powers unequal, I the Task resign,
A Task too great for any Strength, — but thine.
What other Genius can our Sovereign choose?
War's your Delight, Bellona is your Muse.
Your Pen and Sword with like Success you wield,
Fam'd thro' your Study, glorious thro' the Field.
With the same vigour and impulse of thought,
Now may you write, as thro' the Plains you fought.
In the Attempt, tho' my weak Genius fail,
Be pleas'd at least, to recommend my Zeal.
Unknown, this Favour dare I humbly claim,
Unknown to you, my Lord, unknown to Fame.
Disdain to fear, while I have you, my Head;
Your well-rais'd Greatness my Success secures,
I grow assur'd of Fame, by trusting yours.
Great both in Arts and Arms; our Jove, in you
Secures his Lightning, and his Thunder too.
Thus, shou'd your Judgment my Presumption blame,
Pleas'd shall this Semele expire in Flame;
To you, my Lord, most fit, this Suit I move,
You, who are plac'd at the Right Hand of Jove.
1
THE TRIUMPHS OF PEACE.
I.
Behold my Muse uncall'd appear,Hear her glad Voice, unask'd she sings,
And Lo! The Muses all are here,
2
Hark, how they strike the tuneful Strings,
No jarring Notes are found,
No Discord here is heard,
Their peaceful Musick's so prepar'd,
Harmony dwells in every single sound:
Without the Muses aid,
Soft, charming Ayres would now be made,
And ev'n of themselves the willing Strings would bound.
II.
The willing Strings, well-pleas'd, rejoyce,At every touch they straight grow proud,
3
In equal measures they advance;
See, how they rise, and seem to dance,
To the sweet Musick of their tuneful Voice.
No murm'ring Ecchoes do they raise,
But each, when newly struck, complains
In fainting, and in dying strains,
And trembling Fears his rival's pow'r to please.
See, now reviv'd, afresh they move,
How strangely they controul,
And raise soft Musick in my Soul!
Less charming let your Numbers prove,
Ye Sisters, use a gentler strain,
My Heart is sure the Lyre you strike,
4
And thro' excess of Pleasure, now I feel a Pain.
III.
O no, I should not bid you cease,Loud as the Trumpet sounds his Fame,
Do ye his Virtues too proclaim,
Loud as the People's Voice—'tis glorious Ormond's Name.
Sing Ormond's Name afar,
Next mighty Nassaw, great in War.
All, all ye Nine the Theme embrace,
And far above War's Triumphs, raise the Triumphs of their Peace.
5
Long time Bellona was engag'd,
In dreadful Storms the Goddess rag'd.
But now the horrid Tempest's ore,
Spent is the thund'ring Ocean's Voice,
And the same Winds which made the Billows roar,
Now serve to lull them on the shore,
We know no Tumults here, but our tumultuous Joys.
IV.
When flaming Bolts around us fly,A while we view a cloudy Sky;
6
Nor know the Clouds to hold
The jarring Seeds of Heat and cold.
Thus too our Region does appear,
With British fiery Rage, and Gallick chilly Fear.
But Ormond does this Ill remove,
Ormond, the dreaded Thunder of our Jove.
And now the horrid shock is ore,
The Cold and Heat so temper'd here,
The Skyes are all serene and clear.
The Tempest laid with show'rs of Blood,
O'erflowing Europe with their Flood,
7
V.
Strike Muses, strike your tuneful Strings,Hark how the Accent quickly dyes,
Now clap again your joyful Wings,
The Notes, reviv'd, more loud I hear,
Just so our Nations do appear,
And we, like them were struck, that we might higher rise.
See how the sacred Sisters play,
Behold how wantonly they fly,
Beneath the Azure Sky;
8
Wings to their Shoulders and their Feet are bound,
Their Beauties shining heav'nly bright
As their God's radiant Beams appear,
Their Heads with peaceful Garlands crown'd,
Baskets of Roses on their Arms they bear;
Now on some Tempe they alight,
(For all our Fields deserve that Name,
Since Ormond to Hibernia came,)
And now when first they touch the Ground,
They strike their Lyres, which loudly sound,
And Lo! Appollo's self, their mighty God is here.
9
VI.
Their mighty God, surrounded all with Rays,Not crown'd with Laurels, nor with Bays,
Possess'd, and ravish'd with Poetick Fire,
(Such vigorous Heats our Joys inspire)
Descends, and artfully he plays,
Harmonious, moving, melting Lays,
Not on his own, but on Hibernia's Lyre.
Charm'd with the Musick he begun,
Now does he all his Skill employ
And swift to new Divisions run,
Outragious with his Pleasure grown,
10
Fierce with the Torrents of excessive Joy,
The God grows warmer now, than when he guides the Sun.
VII.
Not his own Priestesses inspir'd,Were with such Fury on their Tripos fir'd;
The foaming Virgin's sacred Breast
Was but with dubious Oracles opprest,
Her Words, distorted as her Face, did come,
Long straining into Doubt,
The frothy Oracle press'd out,
And all she utter'd prov'd to be but useless Foam.
11
No glimpse of radiant Truth beheld,
Her Speech did all in wild disorder run,
Breath'd out in clouds of Smoak it came,
With scarce a flash of Flame,
Dark, yet by Phœbus too inspir'd, by Phœbus self, the Sun.
VIII.
Hark now, how loud he strikes his Lyre,'Tis great, 'tis God-like Nassaw's Praise,
The sweet, harmonious Numbers raise,
None but Apollo here,
12
With Strings, whose sound can ne'r expire,)
Is fit the sacred Acts to sing,
(Which on the wings of Glory rode,)
Of mighty Britain's mightier King,
Of Britain's King!—O no—of Britain's God,
Not with his own possest, but with more heav'nly Fire.
IX.
Hear, hear the Sounds repeated oft,All piercing, yet all charming soft,
13
Tho pow'rful as a God, seems gentle as a Child.
Thus Heav'n grows calm, which late did pour
Incessant Storms, incessant Rain,
Against whose Bolts no Force can stand,
Now thund'ring with a furious Show'r
Upon the fenceless Plain,
Now dashing Seas which loudly roar,
And eccho Thunder on the shore,
And tearing Hills and Mountains, solid Waves of Land.
14
X.
See, see, each Muse forsakes her Lyre,Behold, behold, they all advance,
And round their God Apollo dance;
Hark how the Lyres themselves play on,
Tho ev'ry Muse is from them gone,
So fierce, and lasting were their Notes, they knew not to expire.
Just of such nature were the Sounds of War,
So hard great Nassaw struck the strings,
(But those of Battel loudly jar)
A while in shrill Returns their dismal Eccho rings.
So long that dreaded Hero play'd,
15
But now, sweet Musick of our discord made,
He lulls our Diff'rence into Peace.
Jove's Fury lasts till all his Thunder's ore,
But Nassaw holds when he might thunder more,
And Harmony creates ev'n from his Cannons Roar.
XI.
Behold a gentle Dove appears,And flutt'ring round Apollo's head,
Its soft cerulean Wings does spread,
And in its Bill a branch of Olives bears.
16
A dreadful War against the Mountains wag'd,
Their Billows swelling always more,
Which with a loud, insulting Roar,
Lash'd with their frothy Pride the shore,
And foam'd for Anger, roll'd and curl'd,
Oreflowing now unwonted Land,
While nothing could their Force withstand,
But free as Winds, disdain'd their Girdle of the Sand.
Trophies and Spoils along with them they hurl'd,
And rode in noisie Triumph o'er the delug'd World.
17
XII.
The Floods retir'd, the peaceful Dove,(That Silver Messenger of Love)
Took its kind flight to search for Ground,
Which quickly now it found,
For God's fierce fiery Wrath was in the Waters drown'd.
So, late o'erwhelm'd with Floods of War,
Whose Tides came rolling on afar,
Presenting here triumphant Hills,
There gaping Graves between the Rills,
While Winds proclaim'd the Strife, and made the Billows jar.
18
An Olive-Branch we see her bear,
Which with loose wanton Pride she flourishes in Air.
We view no more the bloody Main,
For now so great an Ebb is known,
No springing Tides can rise again,
Nassaw, more pow'rful than the Moon,
Ev'n while his Orb of Glory's greater grown,
Lays the insulting Deluge soon;
Death's dreadful Gulph may roar in vain,
This mightier Planet can increase, yet never feel a wain.
19
XIII.
This mightier Planet, whom the SunCould ne'er in glorious Toils out-run.
Like that great Light, about the World
The shining Glories of Nassaw diffusively are hurl'd.
The darkest, the remotest Coast
Resounds with Ecchoes of the Name,
And, wrapt in everlasting Frosts, can boast
A vig'rous daring Warmth reflected by his Fame.
His Fame, whose influencing Heat inspires,
20
Just like that Radiant God he rose,
Whose beamy Pencil paints the Skies,
Climbing o'er Mountains by degrees,
He gilds his way, where'er he goes,
Beneath him far he quickly sees
Each Hill, which to his view low as the Valleys lies.
His Course of War a Triumph shows,
And mildly still he smiles upon his cloudy Foes.
21
XIV.
His cloudy Foes, approaching near,By their Alliance now grow clear,
And, should they ever blackly form
Another horrid thund'ring Storm,
Their dreadful Jars only themselves would tear.
So he who made the brazen Bull before,
Himself inclos'd, first taught it how to roar,
While Nassaw's Sunshine warms our Isle,
All Nature's works appear to smile.
Britain, tho washt with the destroying Flood,
22
Her chalky Cliffs shine with his Rays more bright,
He makes our Day, and wanting him 'tis Night.
Late (gracious Heav'n!) ah! very late
May he be seen beneath,
Submitting slowly ev'n to Fate,
And setting calmly in the Seas of Death.
Left Clouds and Storms the Universe o'erspread,
When this great Sun descends, let not your Skies be red.
23
XV.
Then Nature's Course would backwards turn,Her Pulse disorderly would beat,
Inrag'd with new, distemper'd Heat,
And with fantastick Fury wildly burn
This Frame of Union here.
Which now turns regularly round,
And like the first Creation does appear,
While Time's fixt Wheels move gently on,
Soon as they seem more fast to run,
Would, like a shatter'd Watch, be quickly all unwound.
24
And strait this peaceful quiet World,
More dreadfully involv'd in War,
Would be, thro' wild Confusion to a Chaos hurl'd.
XVI.
But Nassaw, after his Decease,Secures us with a lasting Peace.
His greater Genius will our Isles defend,
And, when in Heav'n, he will be Britain's Friend.
Yet sure on Earth he must immortal grow,
At least we think and wish him so.
25
(And great Exploits which soar'd so high,)
To prove the Hero all divine,
As if he was assur'd he could not die.
His Preservation here below,
The Omnipresence of Heav'n's King may show.
In Paths of Danger, foremost on he rode,
The Lord of Battels was this Warrior's God.
XVII.
O that I could such Numbers raiseAs might sustain his Praise.
26
Unpractis'd thus to soar,
She cannot fly so far,
And dreads the very Repetition of the Cannon's Roar.
Long us'd in Groves,
To fonder Loves.
And only am'rous Fights to sing,
She cannot bear
To Heav'n the Hero thro' the Air,
His Trophies and his Spoils would tire her tender Wing.
27
XVIII.
Declaring the immortal Fame,Of Britain's God-like Thund'rer's Name,
I should my self immortal grow;
Immortal? yes, I must be so.
Ye Daughters, sprung from Memory, appear,
And call to mind great Nassaw's Actions here.
Without your Aid, should you deny,
His Actions cannot in Oblivion lye,
Nor they nor their Renown can dye.
28
(The Shades of Chiefs, which here were bold;)
All list'ning with attentive Ear,
Yet trembling too, with awful Fear,
Ev'n on black Lethe's Banks, the Wonders of our Hero told.
The Muses Weakness I must here refuse,
They, nor their God can bear my Flight, let Glory be my Muse.
XIX.
Be gone, you foolish, lambent Flame,Which warm'd me, when I dwelt in Groves,
29
For singing Youths and Virgins Loves.
Such painted Fires now disappear,
For they avail not here,
To light me on the Road to Fame.
I feel, I feel my swelling Breast
Is with a noble Rage possest;
A noble Rage in all my Parts does rowl,
Now, quick as Light'ning, thro' my Veins it flyes,
And flashes at my Eyes,
And thunders in my Soul.
30
XX.
O could the fierce Emotions of my ThoughtLive like Nassaw's when in the Field he fought.
Then, then I should be fit to raise
Due Trophies to our Conquerour's Praise.
My fiery Fancy I would here dispose
To flash thro' all my Words, as he did thro' his Foes.
It should, like Victory, his Tracks pursue,
31
Still joyful, ore his Standards flew,
And learnt to soar, while as she soars, she sings.
I, thus inspir'd, should every Foe subdue,
And gain, like Nassaw's self, a Crown of Laurel too.
XXI.
Hail, Mighty Monarch! Britain's King!Thy Glories Fame
Shall thro' the Universe proclaim;
The Universe shall with thy Praises ring.
32
Which is wherever Oceans roar,
Far as thy Guns are heard, whose Thunder ecchoes more.
Far as the Winds themselves can fly,
Shall Nassaw's Name be born—the very Winds shall bear it to the Sky.
Fame can't enough thy Acts declare,
Tho' she should use the Trumpets of thy War.
While some small Hero's Honour, when he dyes,
Beneath the Rubbish of some City lyes,
Thy greater, and more strong Renown,
When thou laid'st siege to any Town,
33
And by the blest Event we see,
The same proud Walls, which dar'd thy Arms oppose,
Fell, to raise Monuments of Fame, for thee,
Of Death, for thy deluded Foes.
XXII.
Those spreading Laurels thou hast now brought home,Have, with their Shade, for ever darken'd Rome.
Rome, whose bold Arms once round the Earth were hurl'd,
34
Her Hills, then swell'd to Mountains with her Pride,
And view'd her vassal'd Earth, and her subjected Flood;
While all the World was Rome, and Rome was all the World.
Whate'r was compass'd by the ambient Tide,
All the big Ocean grasps in his long Arms,
Was won by warlike Rome's Alarms,
But soon this Mistress of the Earth grown vain,
Proud of the Trophies which her Champions won,
35
Her Triumphs for her Conquests conquer'd her again.
XXIII.
Such Favours to her Slaves she gave,They would ungratefully make her a Slave,
And Rivals for her Empire grown,
Vanquishing her, themselves were vanquish'd soon.
She, that proud City, which the Globe laid wast,
Subduing all the World, subdu'd her self at last.
36
And that which Rome we call,
Is great in nothing but her Fall,
Seven Hills at first did all her Greatness bear,
But, form'd of ruin'd Heaps, how many now are there!
Unless devouring Time, more greedy grown,
(Rome, of all welcome Pomp bereft,)
In spight of Stone,
Has eat those hard Remains, which she before had left.
37
XXIV.
Nought else, but Tyber, hast'ning to its Fall,Is now apparent of that mighty all.
Swift thro' Time's Jaws secure it runs,
And where its rapid Torrents come,
Mourning the Ruins of its Rome,
In it's proud Course it murmurs ore the scatter'd Stones.
Tyber remains, while Rome's strong Towers decay,
What's fleeting lasts, what's lasting fleets away.
That City, whose Foundation stood
38
Was sunk at last with the like sanguine Flood.
Sunk from its glorious, warlike Toils,
To mean Devices, and religious Wiles.
When tumbled down beneath us low,
She thought to undermine us so,
And sprung her Mines; but with Pretences giv'n,
(Tho' deep as Hell) to blow us up to Heaven.
XXV.
But Godlike Nassaw does our Fears remove,(If ever Britain knew to fear,
39
The Eccho of his Cannons roars
On the far distant Roman Shoars.
And if their Rock-built Capitol now stood,
How would it shake the nodding Load;
Tott'ring, and trembling, it might serve to prove
Our Thund'rer greater than its Guardian Jove.
He lays their City wast afar,
Tho' built by the fierce Off-spring of the God of War.
More dreaded than their Carthaginian Foe,
He does at once thro' Rocks and Oceans go.
Our greater Hannibal they find can come
40
This God-like Hero, with a Flood
Not of Vinegar, but Blood,
Had there obtain'd a speedier Passage so,
Tore with his Cannons Ball the Rocks, and melted with their Fire the Snow.
XXVI.
As once the bold, prodigious Sons of Earth,Puft up with Minds as monstrous as their Form,
Which gave their grand Presumption birth,
Seem'd well assur'd the Throne of Jove to storm;
41
Themselves the greater Gods to prove,
Till Hercules with needful Aid,
Struck with his Father's Bolts the haughty Rebels dead.
They fell, with Thunder blasted on the Plain,
And at their Fall, — the Earth in Ecchoes thunder'd back again.
So Giant-Rome rais'd her proud Front so high,
Her swelling Bulk grown on her Hills so vast,
The impious Monster seem'd at last
To dare to offer Combat to the Sky:
But on her Head Nassaw hot Vengeance drove,
Nassaw, the Hopes of Heaven, and Hercules of a more real Jove.
42
XXVII.
Our mighty Hero onward came,Beyond Alcides in the Road to Fame.
More than Twelve Labours he sustain'd,
His God-like Courage has orecome
That much more monstrous Hydra, Rome'
And on his Shoulders Heav'n has truly lean'd.
Far ore the Globe his Conquests have been hurl'd,
He cleans this vast Augean Stable of the World.
Ormond and Cuts his Pillars rose,
To set a Ne plus ultra only to his Foes.
43
That each deserv'd to be a King—but great Nassaw a God.
XXVIII.
Nassaw, the pious, as the great,Who only conquers with design to treat.
Forms, and then gains, like Providence, his Ends,
He undergoes no fruitless Toyl,
His Warlike Cannons can't recoyl.
Success his Actions still attends;
From Seas of Blood he rises bright,
44
No wild Ambition led him on,
Nor did he climb, but stoop'd to Britain's Throne,
And sought not to enslave his Foes, but to redeem his Friends.
His pious Pray'rs from Heav'n bring Blessings down,
Blessings, the noblest Jewels of a Crown.
His glorious Consort, since her late remove,
Has interceded for these Isles above.
A pleasing Influence does her Sweetness bear,
Still ore her Sacred Monarch here,
And fills his Soul with Thoughts of Peace and Love.
45
While she's our Saint above, and he below, our King.
XXIX.
Behold Britannia rising from the Flood,Her chalky Cliffs not blushing now with Blood.
See how she bounds upon the Seas,
Behold how wantonly she plays,
The Gordian Knot Nassaw has broke,
Which was enslav'd Britannia's Yoke.
See how she dances on the Main,
See the triumphant Ocean's Pride,
46
Behold the joyful Billows dance again,
And, with Excess of Joy grown vain,
Beyond the Pow'r of Tempests raise their Tide.
From the Strong-hold, which sunk her, upwards hurld,
Britannia now is freed, and may invade the World.
XXX.
The Sun itself, opprest with cloudy Night,Beneath the Floods secures his Light,
Britannia so beneath her Oceans lay,
47
A while the jarring Waves engag'd,
Awhile in thund'ring Storms they rag'd,
And gath'ring Skies a fatal Wreck presag'd.
The dreadful Seas were heard to roar,
Tossing the angry Froth they bore,
And their own Ecchoes answer'd on the shore.
With threat'ning Brows, and furious Pow'rs.
Each at the other proudly tow'rs;
But long they urge not on the Race,
Till calm with their own Fury grown,
Their flowing Amity is closer shown,
They run, and meet, and mingle, and embrace.
48
Now from the Foam behold this Venus Isle arise.
XXXI.
Nassaw's almighty Pow'r, next God's we view,He the old World reforms,
Dispels the Clouds and lays the Storms,
And only God himself can frame a new.
As when the rugged Chaos lay,
Deep hush'd in Silence; her dark, pregnant Womb
Grown big with the great Birth to come,
49
Pangs from the fighting Atoms does she bear;
Till the great God of Light commanded Day;
Then do the mighty Offsprings rise,
And to their Spheres they swiftly run,
The Globe, with its own Weight hangs pois'd amidst the Skies.
And soon she views with a maternal Care,
Her Elemental Twins, Earth, Water, Fire, and Air.
To its bright Orb the Sun is upwards hurl'd,
And with an Infant Smile shines on the neighb'ring World.
50
XXXII.
So gloomy Europe brooding War,The seeds of Discord riper grown,
A long, long time aloud they jar.
Till God-like Nassaw's Pow'r was known;
At his dread Word the Work is done,
Their anxious Strife creates their Peace,
Their Disagreements quickly cease,
And all the several Orbs harmoniously move on.
Smiling Britannia, chasing cloudy Night,
51
Nassaw, like God, a World of Peace commands,
He speaks the Word, Now let it be,
'Tis done; this World of Peace we see,
Displaying him who form'd it, blest it stands,
Rais'd by its Maker's Breath, and fashion'd by his Hands.
XXXIII.
Now may glad Halcyons build on Albion's Main,And pleas'd Astræa visit Earth again,
52
Late dy'd with Blood of Heroes slain,
Its harrass'd Waves shall now have Peace,
Now may it flow with Crystal streams
Gentle as those of Silver Thames,
And sacred Poets on its Banks may be inspir'd in Dreams.
Those Banks where glorious Nassaw stood,
When, viewing with Disdain the Terrors of the Flood,
He look'd, and fought, and conquer'd like a God.
53
XXXIV.
Dreadfully loud, from shore to shore,The frighted Billows join to help the Cannons roar.
Souldiers, and Chiefs renown'd, expire,
By Waters some, and some by the destructive Fire.
Behold where conqu'ring Nassaw wades,
Behold how gloriously he leads,
In vain the River ebbs, in vain
It rolls its Current to the Main,
To yield him passage as he treads,
With purple Torrents strait it swells again.
54
Pursues his Foes, and drives before him Fate.
See the already alter'd Flood,
View the red Waves, the Waves grow red with Blood.
Our Hero more than Israel's Chief performs,
Like him he safely makes his Way
Thro' the destroying Surges of the Sea,
And faces Thunder, and encounters Storms,
With his commanding Sword, instead of Rod,
He triumphs still, secur'd by Israel's pow'rful God.
55
XXXV.
The leading Prophet, at his People's head,Before the Host of cruel Pharaoh fled.
On heaps the wond'ring Billows stood,
While guarded Israel pass'd beneath,
Secur'd, ev'n by the Terrors of the Flood,
And sav'd amidst the gaping Jaws of Death.
Bulwarks of Waves the trembling People view.
The barb'rous Foe, outragious, does pursue,
And now the frighted Waters tremble too.
56
And the Red Sea grows pale with Fear;
But soon the conscious Billows tumbling ore,
With their strong Torrent, down his swallow'd Army bore.
Just like the Waves, which their curst Force controul'd,
The tott'ring Souldiers ore each other roul'd.
Sunk in the Gulph, they roar at Heav'n in vain,
And as it join'd—the big, insulting Deluge roar'd again.
57
XXXVI.
But Nassaw flies not from his Foes,What Mortals dare, should Nassaw fly, pursue!
In Waves he marches with his Armies on,
The Waters part not, but he leads them through!
Here undivided Heaps of tow'ring Seas,
Make not more easie, but obstruct his ways,
Securely bold, where'er he goes.
By his own Providence the Work is done,
Sav'd by no God-like Wonders, — but his own.
58
Press'd with a pond'rous Load of Fate, they roar.
The worsted Foe, like them with storms opprest,
Heave up their troubled, panting Breast.
Aloud their Cries resound from shore to shore,
O'erwhelm'd by Nassaw's conqu'ring Squadrons, more,
Than they themselves were with the Seas before.
59
XXXVII.
Behold the Waters painted gay with Blood,Behold the great Nassaw appear,
Like Alexander in the Grannick Flood,
Behold the rapid, boist'rous Streams;
While Britain's Chief fierce Bolts does bear,
The Billows seem to flash out Flames,
By Waves of Seas are Squadrons hurld,
And Waves of Smoak rowl o'er the Surges curl'd.
Slaughter o'er Head, all terrible appears,
Poison and Famine, Sword and Fire she bears.
60
With sulph'rous Breath, and Blood-shot Eyes,
Those Mischiefs at her Throat she draws,
First swallows them, and then does roar,
She hungers, and she thirsts for more,
Flapping her stubborn, Iron Wings, she flies,
Grinning all horribly in Tears,
Glaring in Faces of the fall'n, and shrieking in their Ears.
61
XXXVIII.
Darkness, and gloomy Horrour all confound,Ten thousand Fates on Billows brooding sit,
By several Deaths the Souldiers fall,
And wild Confusion covers all.
Like the Sea's God great Nassaw rides,
And bears before him rolling Tides.
The very Waves, in Bulwarks, shield
That God-like Hero in the watry Field.
No angry Bullet can the Conqu'rour hit,
62
Swift tow'rds his Foes the hard urg'd Waves are gone,
And he, the stronger Torrent, now comes rolling on.
XXXIX.
Rushing apace, his Army pours,Fierce as the Waves, which wash the shores.
He, like the tenth great Billow rais'd, appears,
And all before him down he bears.
Firm as a Rock, amidst the Waves he stands,
63
Of the loud Ocean's dreadful Voice,
Dashing insulting Billows back upon the Lands.
Like gloomy Skies, behold the darken'd Flood,
Behold great Nassaw like the ruling God.
Hear Trumpets Clangors, all the loud Alarms,
See where the glorious Leader goes,
Behold Nassaw amidst whole Clouds of Foes,
See how he lightens with his Eyes, and thunders with his Arms.
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XL.
Behold how bravely now he plows his ways,Thro' flashes of the Fire, and flashes of the Seas.
By their Almighty Chief led on,
What Wonders has his Army done!
The Sluce of Conquest drawn by Nassaw's Hands,
His Forces, like a Flood, come rolling on the Lands.
All furious, on the Squadrons move,
Now Blood and Slaughter fill the Plain,
And raise another River to be past again.
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And wond'rous God-like Acts perform'd,
Before them far their Foes they drove,
They were the flaming Bolts of their fierce, thund'ring Jove,
XLI.
Horror, and gloomy Flashes of dire Light,Meet, and amaze, create, and yet confound the sight.
The ecchoing Voice of the fir'd Cannons broke,
In gloomy Rolls of sulph'rous Flame and Smoke,
Clouded the frighted Day, and made a dreadful Night.
66
But strait they hear new-rais'd Alarms,
The neighb'ring Hills resound, To Arms, to Arms,
Those by the Sword are slain, and others by the Fire.
Helmets and Spears lye scatter'd on the ground,
Thick Clouds, which of the Dust were made,
Are, with the Blood of those who rais'd them, layd.
The warlike Steeds prance o'er the Plain,
And proudly toss their Foam around,
But soon, their Riders falling from them slain,
They run confus'dly wild, and neighing back again.
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And with quick tremblings shake,—like their own treach'rous Grounds, o'er which they run.
XLII.
Great in Field-Battels, and in Sieges great,The God-like Hero knows not to retreat,
The mighty Hannibal, so far renown'd,
Knew how to gain,
But all in vain,
Without his Brother's Aid, he could not keep his ground.
Both in our Chief reviv'd we view,
For he gains Conquests, and maintains them too.
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That once adorns great Nassaw's Brows.
The sacred Laurel unconcern'd he wears,
No light'ning of his Foes is known,
Nor Bolts so dreaded as his own,
His spreading Crown ne'er shrinks at what War's Thunder dares.
XLIII.
God-like Success his Purposes attend,He could deliver, and he can defend.
His Conquests are as sure his own,
As when some Bar which block'd the way,
Remov'd, to let the Waters play,
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The pow'rful Torrent rowls amain,
Along the steep descent of the vast Mountain born,
With Rocks, and Hills from their Foundations torn,
Bearing huge Trophies down, and deluging the Plain.
Victorious grown, the Waters rage no more,
Of lasting Conquest thus possest,
How fierce soe'er they rush'd before,
Now in triumphant Peace they rest.
Those Hills and Rocks which in the deep have layn,
Sunk with their own curst Weight, can never rise again.
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XLIV.
His Arms Nassaw does with such Prudence wield,He makes his Sword at once his Sword, and Shield,
That Sword, which bulwark'd Towns have fear'd,
While Tow'rs have trembled, when aloft 'twas rear'd.
More fierce than batt'ring Rams it shakes their Walls,
Like dreadful Comets from afar,
Whereere 'tis seen, it threatens War,
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Thus at Namur, Nassaw, thy Siege was lay'd,
While Breaches, which thy Guns had made,
Where soon fill'd up with the thick rowling dead.
In vain, Salmoneus-like, thy Foes
A while their brazen Hold maintain,
Desp'rate their wild Ambition grows,
To dare to thunder on thee in the Plain,
Till thou, the real Jove, sent thy destroying Thunder back again.
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XLV.
From their strong Battlements thy Foes are driven,As if with Flashes, and with Bolts from Heaven.
Thy direful Bombs thro' Air's vast Regions fly,
Flaming with pregnant Vengeance thro' the Sky,
Hissing with thousand Fates, by which poor Mortals dye.
Now, from their flight they fall beneath,
The Houses, which security were thought,
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The Bombs the Roof, and Rafters rudely tore,
The Stones and Timber with them down they bore,
Breaking, they scatter'd into Death,
And now their very Safeguard hurts them more.
Down, with the Houses, Desolation comes,
And that, which brought them Death, prepar'd them Tombs.
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XLVI.
Hark from that Battery, how the dreadful BallsKnock at the Ramparts, and the Walls!
Behold, so wond'rous thick they fly,
They cannot now annoy,
Discharg'd, in mighty Heaps they lye,
Obstructing only there the way,
Where other angry Bullets play,
And stop those Breaches, which they should destroy.
The teeming Cannons from the tott'ring Town,
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Which, almost at the minute of their Birth,
Are strait again intomb'd in Earth.
Now Nassaw thund'ring at his Army's Head,
Not in a Shower of Gold, but Lead,
Jove-like, resistless bold he pours,
Into their strong-built, brazen Tow'rs.
Where Victory lay, his Danae, conceal'd,
Rushing, he fiercely woo'd, and as he woo'd, prevail'd.
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XLVII.
Conquering, and triumphing at once, he comes,With Trumpets Clangors, Cannons roar, and Drums.
Fast thro' the Streets rowls down a purple Flood;
(While Nassaw only minds the Fight,
Far from the pious Hero's sight.)
Mixt with the Groans of Soldiers, as they dye,
The shrieks of ravish'd Virgins pierce the Sky,
And Swords of cruel Warriours blush with Blood.
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Till God-like Nassaw makes it all his own.
See the besieg'd for Mercy call,
Their Gates now stop them flying more
Than ere they stopt their conquering Foes before.
Wild and distractedly they run,
The Soldiers Outrages to shun,
Ere universal Vengeance swallows all.
But the mild Nassaw strait no Terrour wore,
And calm'd his Soldiers, and himself forbore,
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And nobler Virtue shews,—knowing to sheath as well as draw his Sword
XLVIII.
The very Terrour of great Nassaw's Name,Resounds so dreadful on the Coasts of Fame.
Where he decrees a Kingdom's Doom,
He need but go, appear, and overcome.
The high-fam'd Jove, whene'r he war'd,
But for his flaming Bolts was fear'd.
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The dread Phlegræan Field he won,
With those, and only those he knew
The Giant Rebels to subdue,
But Godlike Nassaw more himself has done,
At once the Thund'rer, and the Thunder too.
XLIX.
Nor are his Conquests here confin'd to shore,But known where'r his Guns upon the Billows roar.
Sprung in the Prætor's Ship, 'tis said of old,
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In all Nassaw's without a Wonder now,
Surpriz'd Spectators of the Globe may see
That flourishing, victorious Tree,
And sprinkled still with Blood it would for ever grow.
Beyond what Rome could boast, his Navy flies,
It sweeps the Oceans, and almost the Skies.
While British Streamers by the Winds are curl'd,
And Canvas Wings are spreading, all unfurl'd.
His Fleets are Nassaw's Eagles, which orefly the World.
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L.
Each, like that Royal Bird above,Bears the fierce Ensigns of the ruling Jove.
The fiery Youth, who thought to drive the Sun,
Would here much greater Rashness shun,
From Flames so fatal he would fly,
Not daring to attempt this wat'ry Sky,
And swift, as Nassaw's Foes, would from it trembling run.
Those Foes, whom Britain has the Pow'r to bind
To ask their mighty Monarch's Leave,
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To press the Ocean, and to use the Wind.
Nor Storms, nor Rocks they fear, nor dang'rous Shores,
Like thy dread Navy, when its Thunder roars.
Thy Fleets, great Nassaw, bear thy liquid sway,
As absolute they rule the Empire of the Sea,
As if the Universe were drown'd, and there were none upon the Globe, but they.
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LI.
But now thy Fleet's, and Army's Pow'r may cease,Terrors in War, but Ornaments in Peace,
So, ere from Heav'n the great Apostate fell,
Seraphs with Hosts Satannick fiercely rag'd,
And dreadful, dubious Wars they wag'd;
But the avengeful Godhead soon,
With Force peculiarly his own,
Struck the presuming Rebel down,
And fix'd him in the depth of that vast Empire, Hell.
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His Pow'r divine secures his Throne,
He reigns, but in himself alone,
And by Omnipotence in Heav'n, remains its King.
LII.
No Force Nassaw can of his Glories rob,Where'r he treads, he bends the Globe.
No Force can reach him, but the Force of Heav'n,
By which his Conquests, and his Pow'r of conqu'ring is giv'n.
Such Strength, such Vigour did he show,
85
To him alone she will be constant now,
And her own Chariot quits, to follow Nassaw's Wheels.
The World by hostile Rage he could subdue,
But (more than ever other Chiefs could do)
In making Peace, his mighty self he conquer'd too.
LIII.
And yet beneath his Heat of fiery War,His Subjects happy in their Monarch made,
Securely dwelt in peaceful shade;
The Shelter of his Lawrels spread so far.
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The happy Earth with flourishing days of old;
But when his Son obtain'd the Throne,
The Iron Age appears, the Golden gone.
But here, chang'd Heav'n puts on a diff'rent Brow,
The Iron Age with Saturn fled,
And thund'ring Jove, the Ruler in his stead,
Blest with his Reign, — we find the Golden Age is now.
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LIV.
Far may his Empire and his Sway extend,May Britain long be his, as he is Britain's Friend.
Still with such Ardour may his Subjects burn,
And gen'rous Warmth, as when they saw him come,
With Vict'ry smiling on his Face, and all triumphant home.
So were they blest themselves, while blessing his return.
When in the Streets vast Clowds of People ran,
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And Io Nassaw, oft is thunder'd in the Air,
They all shout, Io Nassaw, that immortal Man.
Immortal Man,—O no,—immortal God!
Whom unconcern'd, the wondring People see,
So mild he in his Chariot rode,
Spectators so admir'd him as they stood.
There was not one, —but felt the Pride of Triumph more than he.
Of what can happy Britains now despair,
When Peace is brought them by the God of War!
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LV.
Return, ye Muses, tune your LyresTo Ormond's Praise, his Merit this requires.
A Crown of Laurels, and of Olives mixt,
Give Nassaw first, but give to Ormond next.
Ormond, whose Race does, Phenix-like, arise,
A brighter Off-Spring when the Parent dies.
Hibernia blest with present Power,
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All seem assur'd that he should bless them more;
Fonder of him—than they would be of others sent from Heav'n.
Wielding the flaming Sword of Justice here,
He would the Cherub of the place appear,
This can the mighty Ormond do,
Make it a Paradise, and guard it too.
Blest as our primitive Parents then,
Beneath his Government, and Nassaw's Reign,
The People nere would fall again;
Nor from their Seat of Bliss would willingly be hurl'd,
91
Blest are these Isles, nor shall their Blessings cease,
While Nassaw reigns, the God of War, and he the Prince of Peace.
FINIS.
93
TO THE KING.
Put off, dread Sir, those awful Looks, and smile,Be only now the Glory of our Isle.
Lay down the Terror; such a Mildness shew,
As when the Captives of your Arms you view.
Thus may the Subject with the Prince confer,
What the Muse speaks, the Monarch stoops to hear:
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Free as the Winds, which bear her, on she sings,
And flutters boldly o'er the Heads of Kings.
Dares, like the Royal Bird, undaunted rove,
And plays with Light'nings, which belong to Jove.
The Gods allow our Off'rings should be giv'n,
We send our Praise, as well as Pray'rs to Heav'n.
Ev'n the Almighty, who was all before,
Commands us Mortals to extol him more.
Not that our Thoughts his Attributes can crown,
95
Thus, from our Claims to thee our Honours spring,
The greatest Conqu'rour, and the greatest King.
Defending still what you have once restor'd,
You sway your Scepter, as you wield your Sword.
In humblest Thanks, and Vows, we make return,
Heav'n bestows Favours; Mortals Incense burn.
FINIS.
| The Triumphs of Peace, or, The Glories of Nassaw | |